


Medusa

by whiteknucklesparrows



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Anal Fingering, F/M, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Reader-Insert, Yandere, how the fuck do you italicize words, look at me now mom this is what I'm doing with my classical education
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-06-28 12:13:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19812085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiteknucklesparrows/pseuds/whiteknucklesparrows
Summary: “You bring your own destruction upon yourself.” Enji’s voice rings out, cutting through the terse silence. “I would have made you queen of the seas, but you spat in my face and humiliated me. What is to come is only fate.”Your fists clench, and you vibrate in anger and fear. Then- like the tide washing away, your ire drains and your shoulders slump.“Then maybe I will finally have rest. Fate is a cruel mistress; it seems we have that in common.” You can feel Enji’s eyes burning into the back of your neck.“Yes, mistresses. You do have that in common.” The air starts to warp and shimmer, humming with power, and you know to close your eyes lest you burn in the presence of his true form. When he vanishes in a blinding explosion of light, you shake your head in exasperation.He could’ve done it further away. Prick.





	1. Nowhere to Run

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the myth of medusa

You can feel his heat before he approaches. The vendor in front of you stammers out a few respectful words before sinking into a deep bow, and your fingers tighten around the apricot in your hand. You bend at the waist, taking a shallow bow before hurriedly dropping a few bronze coins and turning to leave. A hand darts out, flames radiating along the forearm, but freezes mere centimeters before making contact.

“Will you not turn and face your lord?” Your eyes close in defeat as you reluctantly turn part way to stare at his chest.

“I do not dare presume, my lord. It would be impolite to gaze upon your face without invitation.” The flames vanish, and a large hand tilts your chin up. You feel like a mare being examined on the market. Will he check your teeth for good breeding too?

“My lord.” Your voice is soft but an unmistakable core of steel runs through it. His hand lingers for a moment longer before dropping, and you pray to the goddess to give you strength. 

“I will walk you back to the temple.” His voice is commanding and decisive, leaving no room for disagreement. “You never know who might try and prey on a servant of the goddess.”

You want to snap at him; say that he’s the only thing lurking in the shadows at night and bold enough to take during the day, but you hold your tongue lest you lose it. 

Enji doesn’t take kindly to those challenging his word.

You quicken your pace, practically running as you make your way back to the temple, hoping that you’ll ‘accidentally’ lose him in the crowd, but he remains steadfast on your trail. His frustratingly long legs easily keep stride with your shorter ones, and though he’s no longer radiating flames, you swear you can feel them lick at the back of your neck every so often. 

As soon as you pass into a more secluded alleyway, Enji grabs your wrist. You lose balance slightly as you’re very nearly jerked off your feet, and you can feel as mirth rumbles through his broad chest.

“Please let go of me.” Your head is down, hair obscuring your vision on either side, but you can picture his smug face as clear as day.

“What happened to not daring to presume, hmm?” His voice curls around you, deep and taunting. “You would presume to tell a god what to do?” You scowl, careful to keep your face hidden from him.

“No, my lord.” Enji jerks you towards him, a sneer on his face.

“Are you afraid that I’ll _defile_ you?” He’s outright mocking you now, and all you do is close your eyes and mutter prayers under your breath.

“Look me in the eye when I talk to you.” A rough hand grabs your chin, exposing your face to the sunlight. He pushes back your hair from your face, tsking at how tangled it’s gotten. There’s almost a tenderness to his touch, but gentle strokes turn to a harsh fist as he yanks your hair into a sort of makeshift ponytail.

“This should be up in the style of a married woman.” His voice is harsh and cold, and you can feel fear pool in the pit of your stomach. You want to avert your eyes and run, but fear only breeds contempt in this man.

“Then it will always be down. I am a loyal servant of Usagiyama, and no man will ever hold me as his own.” Something flares in Enji’s eyes; and be it anger or arousal you have no care. You wrench your face from his grasp, indifferent to the way your hair pulls in his hand, and stand tall with your shoulders squared. 

“Thank you for your assistance, my lord. I’m sure I can make it the rest of the way back without your guidance.” You bend forward in a stiff, proprietary bow before pivoting away. 

“You bring your own destruction upon yourself.” Enji’s voice rings out, cutting through the terse silence. “I would have made you queen of the seas, but you spat in my face and humiliated me. What is to come is only fate.” 

Your fists clench, and you vibrate in anger and fear. Then- like the tide washing away, your ire drains and your shoulders slump. 

“Then maybe I will finally have rest. Fate is a cruel mistress; it seems we have that in common.” You can feel Enji’s eyes burning into the back of your neck.

“Yes, mistresses. You do have that in common.” The air starts to warp and shimmer, humming with power, and you know to close your eyes lest you burn in the presence of his true form. When he vanishes in a blinding explosion of light, you shake your head in exasperation. 

He could’ve done it further away. Prick.

——-

Your relief comes a week later, when news of Enji’s marriage reaches your ears. It was a secret courtship, they say, the ceremony grand and beautiful in only the way divinity can be. You don’t care about the wedding, just the fact that he’ll be out of your hair, figuratively and literally. 

That night you prostrate yourself before Usagiyama’s altar, burning sweet honey and ripe figs in offering to the goddess. You thank her for her intervention, for her saving grace that has freed you from the dogged pursuit of the god of the sea. 

Though it pains you to do so, you slip off your golden serpentine cuff, the last remainder of your past life. Enji is gone, and so everything associated with him must go. The emeralds of the snake’s eyes glint in the firelight, and for a moment you reminisce of a simpler time, one where you were just a foolish noble girl unknowing of the depravity of men and divine. 

‘Cheeks as rosy as Eos herself, eyes shining brighter than the stars, skin that glowed like Selene’s on a moonlit night, limbs seemingly shaped by Pygmalion himself,’ all that and more had men used to describe you. Above all else, however, they praised your hair. 

‘Soft as spun-silk, shining like polished metal under sunlight, rivaling Aphrodite herself’ The last part was always thought, never said, for obvious reasons, but the list went on. You had flirted with your suitors, flattered by the attention and foolish with youth, but when you turned eighteen a god himself came to see that who the rumors described.

Your people knew of Todoroki Enji, the volatile and temperamental god of the sea. You knew who you dealt with, a man second only to Zeus himself, and suddenly your flirtations sobered to fear, childishness to caution. Airy, brightly coloured peplos were exchanged for heavy white ones and just like that Enji had taken your life away before you two had even met. 

Was it not understandable for you to want to run?

You fling your bracelet into the brazier, the bitterness of your family’s disownment tainting fond memories. They did what they had to in order to avoid a god’s wrath, you remind yourself. It still doesn’t soften the blow. 

Now, you live to serve Usagiyama, Pallas Athene, as the locals call her. You owe your life to her, the one who took you in after you fled your union to Enji. You’re safe, protected as a virgin maiden under her care, and for Enji to try and take you would be to spit in her face, much like you did when you left him alone at the altar. 

The walls of the temple offer you a physical protection, too. No man can cross the threshold of Usagiyama’s temple, not without the permission of a female occupant inside, and the day you let Todoroki Enji breach your stronghold is the day you die. 

You know what you’ve done to him, and you know the consequences. Poseidon will never step foot into your home.

——-

You’re standing by the cliffs when he approaches. The sun glints off the ocean, tinting the glassy surface shades of orange and blood red, and the flashing lights blind you from time to time. You know should run, avoid even his presence, but something about the beauty of the sea and the knowledge of his marriage makes you complacent. 

“My Lord.” You make no attempt to bow, nothing that acknowledges him physically, but you’re not so foolish as to ignore him completely. The heat of his flames are conspicuously absent, and you turn, surprised to see him standing a respectful distance away. 

“Y/n.” There’s a gruffness to his tone and an undercurrent of respect that you’ve never once heard from him, and it puts you on edge. You start to distance yourself discreetly, but Enji picks up on it and follows.

“I am aware of my… _misconduct_ towards you in the past, and I apologize for the discomfort it has caused you.” His words shock you into staying still, and you shake your head to make sure you heard him right.

“My lord?” Your voice is questioning, confused, and you watch as he inhales deeply before replying.

“I am truly sorry for the discomfort I have caused you in the past, but now I am in need of your assistance.” There’s an awkward pause as you try and process the fact that _Enji Todoroki_ , Poseidon himself, shaker of earth and sea, is apologizing to you.

“I-thank you. How may I assist you?” A subtle shift in Enji’s stance lets you know how relieved he is that you accepted his apology, and idly you wonder how you got to know him well enough to translate minute actions like this into emotion.

“I would like to also pay my respect to Usagiyama for harassing one of her sacred priestesses, but we both know that I cannot enter the temple without your permission.” You’re confused; something this conversation in particular seems to inspire in you. 

“Why not pay your respects in person? Surely that would mean more than any offering you could give.” Something about this situation is making you very brazen, and any other time you would’ve been horrified by the casualty of your tone and criticism in your words. You can see something dangerous glint in Enji’s eyes before it vanishes. 

You’re impressed. Not two months ago that spark in his eyes would’ve been a catalyst for a truly terrifying outburst, but now he merely smothers his anger. 

“Rei wants me to have…human experiences.” His voice is stilted, clearly uncomfortable, but it’s not the tone of his voice that shocks you. In all the time that you’ve known him, Enji has taken pride in his detachment from mortality. Maybe marrying Rei has been a good thing; she’s certainly making him so much better than you ever could. 

“Oh.” Your voice is neutral but your surprise is obvious to both parties. 

“You can leave your offerings on the steps of the temple; it’s what most men do.” Something tightens in his jaw.

“I would prefer to make the offering myself, if you wouldn’t mind. Offerings blessed and burned by my hands and fire will have more impact than ones left outside the temple.” You want to protest, tell him that if he wants to have human experiences he needs to participate in human ways, but you’re tired of fighting. You’re tired of him. 

“As you wish, my lord. Follow me.” With that, you turn and start walking down the path home, ignorant of how hunger flashes across Enji’s face at your words.

——-

As the marble steps of the temple come into view, you start to regret your decision to let him in. Enji has changed, that much is undeniable, but how much?

You cross the threshold, your stomach a bundle of nerves, and a place that once served as a safe haven for you becomes vast and intimidating. There is one way in and out, easily blocked in case you try to run, and the temple is just far enough away from town that no one would hear you scream. 

Enji pauses at the threshold, and for a second, your stomach drops in relief as you think that he’s barred from entering. Your hopes are dashed when he easily steps over, large frame blocking the waning rays of the sun from entering the temple. The way that the firelight from the braziers dances over his face gives him an almost demonic appearance, and you fight the urge to run far, far away. 

You have a duty to this temple, after all, to ensure that Usagiyama is treated with respect and her offerings properly processed. Enji seems to be oblivious to your anxiety as he approaches the altar with a calm and presence befitting a god. 

From nothingness he pulls strings of beautiful, creamy pearls, each perfectly formed and glowing softly. Glittering gemstones follow, forged in the heart of the sea with fire dancing within, and a beautiful chainmail made of shimmering abalone is also offered. They’re beautiful, obviously the best of his collection and worth a fortune, but there’s no way you could possibly burn them.

Right as you open your mouth to inform him of this, a searing point of blue flames issues from his hands, incandescent white ones licking up along his arms, and the pile of precious gems are reduced to a fine, powdery ash. 

Enji’s eyes close in prayer as he continues to light the altar, and you watch as the flames change from blue to red to finally a pale yellow that gives off a buttery light. It’s awe-inspiring, an art form in the precision and control of its nature, and you understand why he was chosen as the host of Poseidon. 

Still, as you marvel at the mastery he holds over flame, you can’t help but wonder where that same command is when it comes to his emotions. Almost as if hearing your thoughts, Enji’s eyes snap open, and you can see his otherworldliness as the fire present vanishes, convalescing as a blaze of blinding light in his eyes for a heart-stopping moment. 

The brilliance fades and you’re left staring at his face, eyes cold and hard as chips of ice. He stares at you with an unreadable expression, fists clenched, before nodding his head in acknowledgement and turning for the temple’s entrance.

You release a little sigh of relief that you were unconsciously holding in, and Enji stops right at the threshold before bending down on one knee and placing a hand on the ground. His back is to you, face hidden, and you can feel your blood pressure skyrocket as he stays unmoving. 

“You know, when you first rejected my offer, I thought about killing you, sending a tidal wave to crush what pathetic town you call your home. I didn’t, only because that would’ve brought me no closer to my goal.” His tone is light and conversational, as if talking about the weather, but you’re struck with a terrible fear. 

“As much as I want you to suffer, which you will, make no mistake, there are better ways to accomplish the same ends; your complete obedience and devastation.” His hand sparks, and fire jumps up along the entrance of the temple, blocking your only way out. He turns, eyes hidden in shadow from the flickering flames, and all you can do is pray for a swift death.

“You shouldn’t have let me in, although I appreciate your trust and naivety. Just know, you brought this on yourself.” Enji’s words echo in your ears, and you remember him saying that same phrase what seems like ages ago. 

“How long have you been planning this?” The steadiness of your voice surprises you, and you can see slight astonishment flicker across his face as well. It fades into amusement as he sees how your hands tremble, and you want to curse your body for betraying you.

“So bold. Where was this directness when I asked you to be mine? You could have spared us both the indignity and embarrassment.” You’re furious now, angry at yourself for thinking that Enji could change and angry at him for taking advantage of your belief in the better nature of others. 

“Please leave.” Your voice trembles not with fear, but with rage. Standing, Enji laughs, a low, cruel thing that only forebodes misery for you. 

“No.” As he turns around, you dart for the resting place of the ceremonial dagger, holding it close to your chest like a prayer. There is only more laughter from him as he begins to advance. 

“Do you really think you could hold your own against a god? With such a small weapon, nonetheless? Drop it and I’ll make this easier for you.” Though your hands shake with fear, you raise your chin and look him in the eyes.

“This is a temple of Athena. Anything crime you try and commit will be an offense against the goddess herself.” Enji snarls, stalking forward as you shift your feet into your best approximation of a fighting stance. 

“You invited me in. You have brought this upon yourself and there will be no one to blame but you. Cry to your goddess all you want but even she knows that she is powerless to stop me!” 

His voice rings out, swelling to fill the building with an unnatural richness and depth. You want to cower, to make a mad dash and leave, flames be damned, but you have sworn to uphold the sanctity of the temple and cannot flee like a child. Not again. 

“You have a wife!” It’s a last ditch effort, something that both you and him know, but you have to try and save yourself, rouse some emotion; guilt, love, _anything_. Luck is not on your side tonight, though.

“Yes. You gave me the idea yourself. Since it is so obvious how disgusted the idea of marriage to me make you, you can be my mistress. Nothing more than a _whore_ to bred by me, filled with _my_ seed, your stomach growing round with _my_ children. You will bear me three thousand sons and three thousand daughters, ones to rival the children of Oceanus himself. Rei is nothing more than a puppet, a docile shell of a human who will bend to my every whim.” 

Enji’s not angry; far from it. Even worse, his tone is filled with nothing but satisfaction and delight at the thought of your future with him, and though you are afraid, you cannot regret your decision. For you to have been bound to such a man would have only brought you misery, even if the cell he trapped you in was one of silks and finery rather than cold stone.

“You can’t do this. Someone will stop you.” He laughs, a sound filled with malice and contempt.

“Who? I’ve already told you; Usagiyama can do nothing to stop this.” You lift the dagger in your hands, holding it aloft over your heart. 

“Then I will free myself from this wretched life, from _you_.” Though your last word comes out in a hiss, you are remarkably calm for the situation. Enji snorts, appearing before you and knocking the dagger from your hands before you can react. 

“Don’t be foolish. Despite the insolence you have shown to me I have a vested interest in seeing you alive, a sentiment I am sure you share in. Besides, you will not escape me, even in death. Zeus has allowed me to make you immortal, and you will serve me such as Ganymede serves him.”

“ _No_.” Your cry is one of horror and despair, thick with emotion, and Enji revels in your realization of the situation.

“You see now? There is nowhere to run, nowhere to go, nowhere that you could ever hope to go to escape me.” He grabs your wrists in one hand, delicate bones grinding against one another as he tows you towards the now cool alter. 

Sweeping the ashes aside with a careless brush of his arm, he throws you across the cool stone surface. The impact knocks your breath from you, and in the second that it takes you to recover he has already ripped the soft white linens off your body, tearing a strip off to bind your wrists with. 

“Are you going to behave now?” You shake your head, desperately scrambling backwards before Enji catches an ankle and drags your back with an effortless tug. 

“Fine. Have it your way. Your struggle will only make my victory all the more sweet.” He binds your wrists together with an efficiency that concerns you, and you wonder how many times he’s practiced. When he reaches for the last shreds of your dress, your close your eyes and beginning praying, murmuring pleas to your goddess for help.

Two thick fingers are shoved in your mouth, making you choke as your yes fly open. 

“The only words I want to hear from your mouth tonight are words about me. No more prayers, _priestess_.” His hands spread you wide, thighs trembling as you fight to close them, but it’s no use. Enji looks at you with such pride and satisfaction, and you wonder what you could have done to warrant it before he swipes a finger between your folds. 

“You’re already so wet for me. You like this, don’t you? You like being my little slut? You want me to stuff you full of my cum and breed you?” Slicks glistens on his finger, and you feel the blood rush to your cheeks at it. 

“No, I want-ZEUS!” A wet slap echoes through the temple as you scream, and Enji brings his hand down again, this time catching your clit too. 

“What did I say? You would call another man’s name while I am attending to you?” You glare at him in anger and humiliation, refusing to answer, but it only makes him smile. 

“That’s right; your mouth only opens for me.” Five more hits rain down in succession, and your pussy throbs in agony. You can only jolt in surprise when Enji presses down on your clit, rubbing firm circles as his other hand comes up to pinch a nipple.

“You’re practically dripping, making a mess on the altar of your goddess.” You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to hold back tears of embarrassment and frustration, but a quick pinch to your clit is all it takes for you to open them again. 

Enji meets your eyes with an intense stare, the pads of his fingers rough against the soft swell of your breast. Two of his fingers slide in easily, making you flush in humiliation with how wet you sound. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Oh, look- you’re practically dripping.” Enji coos at you, face mocking as he works you open. “You look so good spread out like an offering; I think I’ll keep you like this in your new home. I’ll drape you in nothing but jewels and gold, and leave you with your legs spread out on an altar of your very own.” 

His fingers scissor inside of you before twisting to rub at the rough patch on your walls, and all you can hear is a filthy squelch as your juices flood in response. 

“You like that, don’t you? Everyone seeing how good I’ve fucked you, cum dripping from your pussy-” You can’t stop the shudder that runs through you, your cunt spasming around his fingers. Enji’s face splits into an absolutely filthy smile, and he works another finger in. Your walls burn from the stretch, but the insistent pressure on your clit softens the pain to the warm glow of pleasure.

He shoves his fingers in at a rapid pace, delighting in the way your arousal drips down his hand. Surprisingly nimble fingers curl to press at your g-spot with each thrust, and the way your walls twitch around them lets him know that you’re about to come. 

You’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm, the tightness in your stomach set to snap, when Enji pulls his fingers out abruptly, leaving you right on the cusp. You can’t help the low whine that escapes you, but Enji doesn’t seem to notice as he stares at the way your hole twitches and spasms around nothing.

“Look at you, so desperate for anything to fill you. I could tell you to fuck yourself with the hilt of your dagger, and you’d do it, wouldn’t you?” You can see the outline of his dick through the thin fabric of his chiton, and you’re _terrified_. He’s fucking huge, so large that you’re sure he’ll split you apart. 

Enji follows your gaze down and laughs at the look of fear on your face. One hand reaches under to pull his cock out, stroking it slowly to it’s full length, and another draws circles around and on your clit.

“Why so scared? We both know you want this.” The fear is only adding to your arousal, body unable to tell the difference in hormones and using your adrenaline to fuel the slick dripping down your thighs. 

With the last bit of clarity you have, you try and scoot backwards, uncaring of how close to the edge you are. Enji sighs as he grabs both of your ankles, yanking you towards him as he sheathes his cock into your warmth without warning.

“Ahh-” Something between a cry of pain and a moan is torn from your chest, and Enji merely laughs as he pulls out almost all the way, until just his tip is left in you. For a brief second you can feel hope flutter up in your chest, but it’s promptly knocked out along with all of your breath as he slams back in. 

There’s a blissed out expression on Enji’s face as your walls spasm around him in pain, desperately trying to push the intruder out. Hot tears pool in your eyes, burning their way down your cheeks before landing with a soft ‘plop’ on the cool stone surface.

Enji flicks at your clit with his fingernail, and the stimulation, combined with the way your walls contract around him pushes you straight off the cliff and into your first orgasm. He groans, reveling in the sensation for a second before starting to fuck into you at a rapid pace.

“Hng, not yet baby. Bad girls don’t get daddy’s cum.” You stare at him in astonishment, thighs quivering as you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm. He thinks you want his cum in you? It gets hard to focus as Enji fucks you within an inch of your life, but you start trying to kick at him, hoping that he’ll get tired of your resistance and leave you alone. 

You draw your leg back, preparing to lash out at him, but Enji leans forward, pressing your leg against your chest, and the new position allows him to thrust even deeper. You choke on a little whimper as you feel the tip of his cock nudge your cervix, making Enji groan and bite down on a nipple. 

“You feel so good, your walls clamping down on me like a good little girl.” He swipes two fingers along where the two of you are connecting, coating them in your juices before shoving them abruptly in your mouth.

“Do you taste good, baby girl? Should I see for myself, eat you out until you’re squirming against my face, mindless with pleasure?” You choke on his fingers, eyes rolling back in your head as you start to lose oxygen. Enji uses his other hand to spread the puffy lips of your cunt, watching the way his cock glistens with your arousal as he fucks into you with deep, rolling thrusts. 

He pinches your clit before using the same hand to grab your hips and raise them a little higher, and this time every stroke brushes against that sweet spot within you. You let out a garbled moan, fingers still shoved down your throat, and the lack of oxygen combined with the constant assault on your g-spot has you building up to your highest peak yet. 

You’re about to come, anticipating a high like nothing before, when Enji stills completely, yanking his fingers from your mouth to wrap his hand lightly around your throat. You make a small sound of protest before realizing what you’re asking for. In an attempt to disassociate, you close your eyes, but Enji doesn’t hesitate to reach out and twist one of your nipples in a way that brings you both pleasure and pain.

“Eyes on me, baby girl.” You comply reluctantly, eyes filled with rage and hatred. The smile on your rapist’s face sickens you to your core, and you flinch away as he rubs a thumb along your cheek. He doesn’t seem to mind it.

“You know, only good girls get to come, and you haven’t been a very good girl for me. Since I’m feeling _generous_ ,” the word is punctuated with a roll of his hips, “I’m going to let you make it up to me. Say, ‘Please daddy, fill me up with your cum’ and I’ll let you come.” 

“No!” The force of your exclamation surprises you, and you use the momentum from your newfound courage to carry on.

“You think I’m want to cum bad enough that I’m going to beg for you to cum in me? I don’t want your children! I don’t even want what you’re doing to me right now!” The conviction in your tone is undermined slightly by the tears flowing down your face, but none of it matters as a dark expression passes over Enji’s face.

“Really?” His tone mocking, words drawling. “It looks like you like what I’m doing to you a lot.” A finger brushes over your swollen clit, and you can feel the way your cunt convulses around his cock inside you. Enji sighs, pulling out, and you feel a deep relief and astonishment. It worked, it actually worked and you can be free of him now and- 

Your train of thought is abruptly cut off as Enji swipes a finger through your slick before prodding gently at your other hole. 

“No, no don’t put it there, move your hand, please move your hand!” The last few words come out in a shriek as the tip of his finger breaches your rim. Enji stills, tilting his head as he looks down on you with an infuriating smirk.

“I thought you didn’t want to get pregnant. This way, it’s a complete guarantee that you never will.” You know what he’s trying to do, and you don’t want to give in but then his finger slides in to the second knuckle, and you feel a cramp go through you from the pain.

“No, please, please Enji, take it out.” You’re sobbing now, adrenaline peaking into a mess of emotions. He raises an eyebrow, but his hand stills.

“You know what I want to hear. Say it and I’ll stop.” You bite your lip in nervousness, weighing your dignity against the pain that’s inevitable if he continues. When his finger slides in to the base of his third knuckle, you cave.

You can’t look at him, eyes focusing on a point far away on the ceiling as you choke the words out.

“Please d-daddy, fill me up with your cum.” Your teeth are gritted, tone completely flat, and you clench your fists. A second fingers prods at the first, and you focus on his face in panic.

“I’m not convinced.” Enji looks unimpressed, and you want to scream with frustration but- _oh god he’s actually working the second fingertip in and_ -”

“Please daddy, fill me up with your cum! I want to feel you cum in me, I want your cum dripping out of me!” Your voice is filled with fear but high and needy, and you don’t know why you added the last part, chalking it up to fear and desperation, but it works. 

You let out a low groan as he pulls his fingers out without warning, and slams his cock all the way back in, knocking the breath from you. Rough fingers work at your clit, alternating between pinching and rubbing, and that combined with the constant assault on your g-spot has you crying out, legs wrapping around Enji’s waist instinctively.

He laughs at your desperation and submissiveness, fucking you through your orgasm and straight into the beginnings of another. 

“I can’t be mad at you for turning down my proposal, not anymore. You obviously knew that your place is in my bed, constantly wet and ready for my cock. Look at you, you don’t belong anywhere near a throne except at my feet.” His voice is casual, but you can tell from the tightening in his thighs that he’s close. 

Enji pushes your legs so that your feet are by your head before bending over and fucking into you with everything that he has. You’re completely incoherent now, unable to do anything but wrap your arms around his neck and take it like his whore. 

The change in position causes him to rub up against your clit every time he slams in, and your climax hits you like a bolt of lighting. You cry out, unconsciously pulling Enji closer as you bury your face in his neck. The warmth radiating from his body is comforting, and your orgasm spurs one of his own. 

You’re taken by surprise when Enji wraps your hair around his hand and uses it to tug you back, and you panic before he dips his head down and captures your lips in a crushing kiss. It’s assertive and domineering, with him sucking your lower lip aggressively before sealing off your mouth to drink up all the little sounds you make. 

His hips are a blur, going until you feel the first spurt of warmth within you. As soon as he begins to cum, Enji keeps his cock nestled deep in your folds, preventing even a drop from escaping. You can feel him pulse and twitch inside you as he spills ropes of pearly cum within you. 

As the two of you lay locked together, your mind starts to clear and you realize what you’ve just done as a full body shudder runs through Enji and he empties the last of his cum in you. Hot tears roll down your cheeks unbidden, and he thumbs at them with a tenderness that you didn’t know existed in him. 

“Shh, shh, you’re going to be such a good mother. You’re going to be so beautiful, glowing and round with my child.” His murmured comforts only make you cry harder, and you try to push him off of you so that you can try and scoop his cum out. 

It’s like trying to push against a tsunami; completely ineffective with just as much chance of success. Enji’s face softens, and he grabs your hands in his, completely dwarfing them. 

“Come on, let’s get you home.” You want to cry that this is your home, the temple was your home, or at least until he came in and desecrated it. Despite your inner turmoil, you lay limp as Enji scoops you up in his strong arms before carrying you over the threshold.

The steady sound of his heartbeat soothes you, and you rest your head against his chest as you stare blankly at the waves crashing along the shore. They’re soft, far from the tumultuous waters your town has been suffering from for the past year, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you register that you’re the cause of this. 

It’s a marvel how much power you can hold while simultaneously being stripped of your own. The water laps at your feet, and as the two of you begin to descend into the sea, you let the darkness take you.

——-

When you wake, you are alone. The room is opulent and dotted with little treasures seemingly strewn around. There are no windows, but there are divots carved into coral walls that hold little balls of buttery light. 

You are in Poseidon’s palace. 

The sheets are cool as they slide off your legs, and you wince as the faint ache between your legs blooms into a dull pain. It’s all you can do to hobble over to what looks like a bathroom when every step causes discomfort to bloom between your thighs. 

Stealth isn’t your main objective right now, more like getting to the bath without collapsing, so you’re not surprised when you look up and Enji stands by the door with his arms crossed. 

“Need some help?” His tone is flat, mild amusement being the only emotion audible, and you refuse to acknowledge him. You continue to shuffle towards the bath, bracing yourself on the walls for support. 

There’s a sigh from Enji before you feel him come over and sweep you of your feet, hands surprisingly soft as he holds you. You can’t help but contrast it with the hard grip he had on your hips last night, hands leaving large, blotchy purple bruises. 

“Usually I would punish you for being such a brat right now,” you want to make a face. You’re being a brat? You’re being fucking kidnapped, but you digress. 

“-but stress isn’t good for the baby so I won’t punish you this time. My concern for my child is not a boundary to push, however, because there are other ways to discipline you than physical force.” His voice is deep and rumbling, eyes flashing, and if you were to place your ear to his chest you’re sure you would be able to feel the vibrations. 

He shifts to support you with one arm, holding a hand over the water until you see small wisps of steam curl off the surface. The scent of bay laurel and lavender wafts over to you, and you wonder if this has been prepared specially for you. His garments drop to the ground with a soft sound, and he steps into the baths while maintaining a firm grip upon you. 

At first the water burns, and you fling your arms around his neck to pull yourself away. Enji laughs at the action, slowly lowering you into the water despite how tight your arms are around his neck. 

Though the feeling of his touch brings nothing but nausea and revulsion, you bury your face into the crook of his neck to try and distance yourself from the pain. With delicate hands Enji pries you off of him, reaching for a block of pumice to scrub your down with. 

His actions are gentle and methodical, and you’re briefly reminded of your mother doing the same for you before shoving the thought away with loathing. He gives your bruised sex a wide berth, something you’re grateful for, finishing up with your body before going on to clean himself. 

You close your eyes, letting the water lap at your face and soothe you as you try and pretend that you’re anywhere but here. Enji’s surprisingly quiet as he washes, and you have a single, blissful moment as you let your mind wander off. 

A gentle touch at your thighs brings you back, and you open your eyes to see Enji parting your legs. You begin to panic, thrashing in the water as you try and twist away from him, but all he does is maintain a firm grip and soft eye contact. 

When you realize that all he’s trying to do is clean you, you calm, but mistrust is evident in your eyes as you watch his hands carefully. He’s remarkably tender as he cleans around your folds, careful not to press too hard on any of your bruises. 

He slides a finger in and your whole body tenses before you realize he’s just swirling it around to get all the cum out. The relief of your realization lifts a tension you didn’t know you had, and that combined with the way Enji crooks his finger at just the right moment has you letting out a little moan of pleasure.

As soon as it’s out you want to die, sink into the water and try to drown yourself, but it’s too late. You can feel, see his cock harden against your thigh, and you shake your head frantically as his finger curls again, seeking out the sweet spot on your walls.

“No, no, Enji, please, please, I can’t do this again, Enji,” You try and reach your hands down to stop him, but a sharp ‘don’t’ has you clasping one hand over your mouth to muffle the sobs as the other grabs at the edge of the bath. 

You can feel the slickness gathering between your legs as Enji coaxes out a warm glow of pleasure from you, and in one swift movement he lifts you so that you’re balanced on the edge of the tub, legs spread with your pussy in his face. 

Muffled sobs wrack your body as he buries his face in your sopping cunt, tongue breaching your sore and abused hole as he chases after the taste of your arousal. He groans, making you squirm as the grip on your thighs tightens, and gives your clit an experimental flick of the tongue. You clench, juices flooding in response, and Enji laps it all up with enthusiasm. 

“As sweet as nectar…better than ambrosia.” He pulls away, rising out of the water, and you can see how precum beads at the tip of his angry, red cock. There’s nothing you can do but close your eyes and cry as you feel him nudge at your swollen entrance.

It’s a testament to Enji’s good mood that he doesn’t snap at you to look at him, even pushing in slowly to give you time to adjust. He pauses once he’s all the way in, and disgust rises in you at how full you feel. There’s still no movement from him, just the occasional twitch of his dick within you, and you take a peek at his expression. 

You don’t believe Enji to be capable of love, but you’re quite sure the softness in his gaze is as close as he can get to it. He spreads a large hand over your stomach, pressing gently, and you convulse as it causes him to press harder into the rough spot on your walls. 

He doesn’t seem to notice, a fervor burning in his eyes as he moves his hand to cup your face. The drag of his cock along your walls has more tears rolling down your cheek, and he begins a slow, steady rhythm.

“You’re going to make such a good mother.” His voice is hushed. This tenderness is almost worse than the carelessness with which he took you the first time. It’s too close to the sweetness of a lover, too soft for you to reconcile his actions with the man who has been making your life hell for the past year. 

Soft touches on your clit bring you back to the present, and one particularly firm press has you sobbing as you peak. Enji groans at the feeling of you clamping down on him, his own release following shortly afterwards. 

The two of you stay locked together until he begins to soften, Enji wiping away your tears in a consoling manner. When he pulls out, you can feel cum begin to slowly leak out of your twitching hole. 

Enji uses a finger to push it back into your swollen pussy, and you squirm in discomfort at the added stimulation. You lay prone on the edge of the bath as he moves to dry and dress himself before carrying you back to the bed. Your bed. 

He’s still sweet with you, taking the time to set you in a comfortable position before lying down next to you. His half-hard cock slips back into you, but there’s no further movement from him and you assume it’s to ensure that his seed takes. 

“I hope our child has your hair.” Enji takes a couple strands between his fingers, marveling at how soft it is. You want to vomit, to jerk yourself out of his arms, anything, but all you do is lay complacently.

You hope you never have a child, that you will never bare an heir for such a repulsive man. You hope that you are barren, because better to never have children than to have one with him. 

Against your back, Enji’s chest rises and falls slowly, and you would think him asleep if not for the hand smoothing back your hair. It feels good, and the pleasure you find in this is more humiliating than anything you could ever derive from him fucking you. 

The innocence of his actions hurts, because you know that no partner will ever touch you in the same way. No one else will ever touch you. The two of you stay locked together until his cum cools, at which point he slides out and stands up, making himself look presentable. 

Conjuring armour from the air, he steps in swiftly. As flames race along his chest and down his arms, his posture shifts, softness gone, and the man standing before you is no longer Todoroki Enji, only Poseidon, ruler of the seas. 

“I’ll be back later; don’t try anything foolish while I’m gone. There are guards outside your door and every inch of the palace is under my surveillance. Remember, you belong to me now.” 

You don’t know how to respond, fucked out and emotionally drained; so you don’t. He takes your silence as assent, and gives a brief nod before turning on his heel and striding out of the room. 

All you can do now is pray; pray that your goddess who was powerless to protect at the temple can protect you now, pray that you can escape this wretched excuse for a life, pray for freedom, for pity. Your heart aches, feeling void and scooped clean of emotion, but something within you stirs and you can feel the last flutters of hope rise within.

Soft lips press against your forehead, and the warmth upon your face is far from the sensation that Enji’s flames bring. You squeeze your eyes shut tighter, knowing that this is a sign from your goddess Usagiyama. 

“Look in the mirror.” The phrase is not said out loud, yet it rings clear in your head. As you run to the bath to look at your reflection in the water, you gasp. Slowly, your hair, the most beautiful part of you, separates and hovers in the air. Scales spread down each section as your hair turns to snakes, and you glance down at your hands to see sharp tipped claws sprouting from your nails.

You watch in fascination and horror as your face twists, pretty features overrun and twisting into those of a grotesque monster’s. Gold spreads across your iris and sclera, leaving only black vertical slits for pupils. An ashy grey pallor blooms across your skin, giving it the appearance of stone. Large fangs jut out from your bottom lip, but when you run a careful nail along your teeth, you feel nothing. 

“Your face is naught but an illusion; however, any man who looks into your eyes will instantly become stone.” Usagiyama’s voice is soft in your head. “I am sorry that I could not do more to protect you. I can give you one last thing, a promise on the River Styx. You will not bare Enji children, nor for any man nor god who thinks to force themselves upon you. Your wellbeing falls to you, now.” Tears well in your eyes, this time of joy, and you drop to your knees.

“Thank you my goddess, thank you.” Usagiyama has given you the ultimate gift. No man will ever touch you now, be it Enji or some other fool who feels he is entitled to your body. Your beauty has been reclaimed, and this new form is just as beautiful in your eyes, or daresay, even more so. This beauty is your own.

Her gift is not done, however, and you kneel in agony as leathery black wings sprout form your back, completing your demonic appearance. This is the final piece, a way for you to flee both land and sea. 

Your transformation has not gone unnoticed, though, attracting the attention of your guards, and you shield your face from their eyes. You pull in the vestiges of your retreating humanity, try and remember what compassion felt like for the sake of their souls. 

“For your sake, I give you this one chance to save yourselves. If you value your life, turn and do not look back. Flee.” Your voice comes out magnified, rich and layered like the scales of a bronze snake dragging against the ground. 

From the reflection of the water, you see the eyes of two guards glaze over before they shuffle out of the room. The rest steady themselves, eyes hard, holding weapons meant to disable, not kill. Their loss. You would rather die than let Enji keep his hold on you. 

It’s almost laughably easy, a single glance from you turning them to stone. You wonder idly what happens to their souls in the underworld, but already you find yourself uncaring. If Enji himself has not done so, it seems that your metamorphosis has burned the humanity from you. 

——-

It is not until you reach your new dwelling in the mountains that you figure out just how detached you are from mortality. You have no need to sleep, no need to eat, not even to breathe, and for a while it’s peaceful. You make a temple of your own, a sanctuary for women to travel to when they have nowhere else to go. 

You found out after the first encounter that women are immune to your charms, immune to your gaze of stone. Many cannot see the illused face, viewing you only as you were when mortal. Years pass, women come and go, and you do your best to rehabilitate them all. Now your house sits barren, with two women who you call sisters of your own staying. 

Their faces are equally horrendous as yours, yet they cannot shed their like a snake’s skin. You don’t mind; there is beauty to be found in every face, even theirs. 

Men also come and go, reckless youths who seek to play hero, overeager oafs who have heard some semblance of your story, upstarts seeking glory. All fall at your hand, or at your sisters, and there is peace. 

You’re weaving a complex piece, sitting at a large loom with brightly coloured wool when you hear shuffling at the entrance of the cave. It’s odd- the women stopped coming a decade ago and the heroes have stopped too. 

To say that you are shocked to see a dashing young man, wings as red as blood, is to say the least. His appearance is not the thing that brings you shock, but rather the even look he gives you as he gazes into your eyes. 

“Who are you?” Your voice is sharp, edged with fear for both yourself and your sisters. The man takes a step forward, hands up in a placating manner, but still he does not break the eye contact he holds. You wonder in the back of your mind if your claws would even be able to pierce his skin. When he speaks, you feel chills crawl down your spine, skin pricking in response to words you have dreaded to hear for what seems like a millennia. 

“I am Hawks, also known to mortals as Hermes. I have been watching you, observing since the day you fled Poseidon in the sea and I have decided, you will be my wife.”


	2. No Love to Hide

The gods are selfish. They don’t mean to be, but when your existence spans millennia, it’s hard to think of how one decision will affect a mortal’s life. An ant has no quarrel with a boot.

The gods are selfish, you know this firsthand. A god stole your childhood from you, forced you from the bright flirtations of youth to the heavy responsibilities of adulthood far too soon, ripped your mortality from you like plucking a particularly beautiful bloom. 

Poseidon may have stolen your life, but you built it back. You created a haven, a safe house, an asylum for persecuted women to flee for. The refuge you wish you had been able to flee to, when Enji first came into your life. 

Another god had taken it all from you. Or rather, had taken you from it, but it didn’t really matter. Nothing did, anymore.

——-

Hermes is confusing. 

You don’t know what he wants, what his goals are when he flies you to a cave far too high for your sisters to ever reach, and too low for you to fly to the gods. Not that you would ever want to see them, but still. You’re trapped and alone, with only a golden-eyed god for company.

He never tries to touch you, strange for a man who declared you his wife only minutes after meeting. There’s nothing sensual about his gaze, touches no more lingering than those of a distant friend, words no more romantic than the ones you speak to him. You know he doesn’t love you, but you wonder if he even knows what marriage is. What marriage means to you.

One day, you ask him. 

“Hermes?” There’s a soft hum of acknowledgement from him, blood red wings splayed awkwardly as he lies on his side observing you. You feel like an animal on display, being watched with the expectation of an interesting trick. 

“Why did you marry me?” Using the word ‘marry’ is kind of a stretch; ‘kidnap’ or ‘threaten’ or even ‘coerce’ would’ve been more apt. His golden gaze is cool against your face, muscles relaxed as he takes you in.

“You’re interesting.” He’s a god, practically perfect, and the way his voice flows like honey off a spoon is no exception.

“You married me because I was interesting.” Your voice is flat, neutral, and you know you should be raging, furious that he’s stolen you from the life you created because you were ‘interesting’, but you can’t find it within yourself to summon that fury. Your experience with Enji has swept away any sharp anger you might feel like waves smoothing out a stone. 

“If I promise you that I’m not, will you let me go?” The grasping nature of your words is apparent to both parties present, but all Hermes does is crack a lazy grin. 

“I wouldn’t have taken you if you weren’t interesting.” A sigh of frustration escapes you. 

“I haven’t done anything. I don’t do anything interesting. I don’t do anything.” There’s soft sounds of shuffling as he rolls over onto his stomach.

“Therein lies the interest.” You want to scream, shake the honey-tongued god of tricksters until real answers fall out, until the key to your freedom shakes loose, but you hold yourself back for the good of your sisters.

“Would be as kind as to explain?” The tone of your voice is pushing it, that you know, but you’re finding it increasingly harder to care.

“You haven’t done anything. You haven’t said anything particularly interesting, you haven’t performed any legendary feats, you look kind of interesting but nothing compared to what most gods have seen, and yet, Poseidon chose you.” He squints his piercing eyes.

“Poseidon chose you, wanted you bad enough that he petitioned Zeus for your immortality, asked you to be his queen, and took you after you refused him. Took you without destroying your whole village.” Hermes looks almost impressed, and you understand why. Enji’s temper is as volatile as the kingdom he rules. He continues on.

“And Usagiyama protected you, took you in under her blessing and refused to let Enji touch you. Ensured your safety with seemingly nothing in return, and watches over you still.” 

There’s a twisting in your gut as different emotions war inside you. You’re so, so grateful to your goddess for providing so much for you, but it stings to know that even with your new form it took the intervention of a god to prevent Enji form meddling further with your life. You’re bitter that Usagiyama watches you, see your new situation but lifts not even a finger to help, angry that you understand she has more important things to attend to. 

Bitter that Hermes watches you like a trick pony, as if expecting some feat justifying his interest to appear. 

“You took me from my life because you were interested.” A tongue runs over sharp teeth. “Can you put me back?” Hermes frowns, confusion clear on his face. 

“Why would you want to leave? I can bring all the luxuries of the world to you. Do you want a companion?” Finally, you understand a little, realization shining like the sun breaking through a cloudy sky.

You are not an equal to this man, this god, this red-winged trickster. You are a fancy pet, a pretty little thing to be admired and watched with no regard for your own feelings on the matter. Of course the gods are selfish, for how could you not be when thinking of a lesser being?

There are tears welling in your eyes, running over rough cheeks, but you care not for the concerned glances your captor throws your way. He cares not for you.

——-

He’s a little more considerate, after that. Sometimes, you can almost see a hint of affection in his eyes. It seems his pet is growing on him.

——-

“My mother never loved my father.” It’s been a lazy day in the cave, lounging on plush furs while idly sipping nectar from a golden cup. You hate that you no longer need mortal food to survive, but you’re used to it now, both the lack of it and the days you spend drinking the sweet nectar of the gods. This confession, though, you’re unprepared for. 

Hermes looks off into the distance, gaze contemplative. 

“I actually don’t think she ever met him, really. He came to her in the dead of night, while she was asleep, and from their union I was conceived.” There’s no bitterness, no anger, none of the emotions that you expect to hear from such a story, and another piece of the puzzle slots into place.

“Your father raped your mother.” His expression doesn’t change.

“Is that so? It’s an honor to bear the child of the king of gods.” The casualness of which he accepts this with makes you sick. No wonder Hermes feels so entitled to pluck you from your home, keep you in a gilded cage, take you as his wife without your consent.

He is only following the example his father has set. 

Sympathy brews in your chest, against your own wishes because _why should you have sympathy for your captor_ but you reach out a tentative hand anyways, resting it gently on his shoulder. Golden eyes track your every move, and is it your imagination or does he relax a little once you touch him?

“Hermes-”

“Call me Hawks.” You swallow nervously.

“ _Hawks_ , you’re not your father. You can be better.” There’s pleading in your voice and desperation in your eyes, but he doesn’t seem to see any of it. The glaring light of the setting sun must be blinding him, but it sets his eyes alight like molten metal. It’s almost beautiful.

“Zeus is the most powerful being alive. I cannot be better than that.” A gentle hand turns his face from the blinding light, the glow in his eyes fading until they’re a soft yellow. 

“I think your mother would beg to differ.” Your voice is soft; you tread a dangerous path and you know it but the disappointment still stings when a wall comes down on his face and he pulls back from your fingertips.

“You know not of that which you speak of.” His voice is cold, detached, and you try and convince yourself that the regret you feel is because you failed to convince him to let you go.

——-

The first time it happens, you’re drunk. 

Sometimes, when you’re alone, you run your tongue over dull teeth and remember the bitter taste of wine upon your lips. You can’t deny that you miss it; the sensation of dancing free and wild without a care in the world, the honeyed liquor washing away every inhibition. The exuberance of youth fueling hours of crazed dancing; air hot from not only the burning braziers but also the mass of writhing bodies. 

Hawks catches on to the way you savour rotted fruit, eyes shut closed as if reliving older, better days, and one night he brings home an amphorae of wine straight from Olympus itself. You don’t say anything, no exclamation of delight or surprise, but neither one misses the way your eyes train on the flow of dark liquid. 

You allow him to mix your cup for you, and even though there’s more honey and water than you would like, it’s close enough that you can almost smell the night air. Memory after memory floods your mind, and you revel in them all, comforted by the soft hissing of your snakes. 

The silence is what tips you off first, the soft slide of scale against slide gone, and Hawks having ceased his lazy chatter. Your eyes open to smooth skin, soft and human, so different from the stone you have grown used to. 

For a second, Hawks understands completely why Poseidon took you, a beauty carved from marble, and he cannot help but wonder if you are not another incarnation of Aphrodite. 

Your beauty is inhumane, god-like, and yet, when you catch sight of yourself in the reflection of your drink, you flinch away as if viewing a monster. 

Fast as your transformation comes it vanishes again, and you seem to take comfort in repugnance of your features. A face sculpted from marble becomes a mask hewn from rough stone, and your claws clack against granite skin as if comforting yourself of its presence.

“You understand now, don’t you?” Your voice, soft and low, is the first to break the silence. Monstrous eyes dart desperately across the room, everywhere but his gaze. 

“He loved my hair most of all. Hoped that his children might inherit it, held it like it was more precious that the finest of silks. It repulses him now, something that I can find comfort in.” You wrap your arms around yourself, drawing your feet in until you look so similar and yet so different than the strange, beautiful, vulnerable girl he has just seen.

“How?” Pain flashes across your face, as clear as the hatred you first viewed him with.

“You said that you had been watching since I fled Poseidon under the sea. I prayed to Usagiyama just before, and she gave me the means to escape my captor. I did not always look like this.” 

Hawks reaches a hand forward, gaze questioning. You’re unsure of what he wants, but nod anyways, leaning towards him. There’s nothing but wonder in his gaze as he smooths a thumb along the sleek scales of one of your serpents, and something close to adoration as he brushes fingertips along your rough cheek.

“There is beauty to be found in your face. A security in knowing that you are your own protection, that no man will ever touch you again without your consent.” Burning tears gather in your eyes. A golden gaze turns to you like sunflowers to the sun.

“Thank you for letting me see you at your weakest.” You do nothing to acknowledge his statement, but internally, you are screaming.

You feel no comfort around this man, this god, this monster. You feel no security, no affection, and certainly no love, and yet, he has seen your true face, something only revealed in moments of great trust and tenderness. Something that has only been shown to those who you love. You do not love him. 

You cannot love him.

Instead, you let the bitter taste of wine wash over your tongue, the honey coating it and sweetening your words.

“You understand.” Hawks watches your face carefully.

“I had help.”

“Then let me go.” You know what his next words will be, yet they are still as bitter as the wine you drink.

“I cannot.”

“Cannot or will not?” He ignores the question.

“Why would you want to leave? Do I make you unhappy?” You reach for the amphorae, pouring the syrupy wine undiluted into your cup.

“Can a caged bird every really be happy?” 

“Is there happiness in being exposed to the cruelties of the world?” You tire of talking in circles with your trickster god.

“You mother hid herself away from the world, and still misfortune found her. I would rather fall prey to the cruelties of the outside world than have them brought here, to me.” 

Golden eyes darken, hurt colouring them a deep amber.

“I am not my father.” Hawks’ voice is soft, but he cannot meet your eyes. The wine is thick on your tongue, like the sorrow in your throat.

“That you are not. But are you better or worse?” 

He doesn’t answer.

——-

He brings you a shallow bronze bowl the next time you see him, silvery water reflecting only your own unamused face. There’s a bit of nervousness in his as he waves a hand over the surface, and suddenly the monstrous faces of your sisters come into view. 

You have never thought them so beautiful. 

“They’re alive.” Hawks raises an eyebrow.

“Did you think them dead?” A fingertip breaks the surface, sending ripples throughout the image. You wish you could hold them closer.

“You threatened me with their death.”

“I swore on the river Styx.” You don’t spare a glance for him, too entranced with watching the gentle rise and fall of Euryale’s chest. Your sisters, whole and alive, so close and yet so far. 

“There are ways to get around promises; you should know just as much as I.” He backs away, hands raised in acknowledgement of his defeat, but you cannot tear your eyes from the bowl. 

Your sisters have mourned you, that much is obvious, from their skeletal frames to the gauntness of their face to your loom, untouched in the center of the room. Even now, they leave the slightest of spaces between them, as if expecting a third to squeeze in. Your heart aches. 

Salty tears disturb the unbroken surface, dispelling the image present. A storm of emotions brews within your chest, and you are unable to name a single one.

“Why would you show me this? Are you mocking me with the love that I have lost? Are you tormenting me with the knowledge you might still kill my blood should I try to leave?!” A sweeping arm knocks the bowl off of the stand with a heavy crash, and as you stand, chest heaving and tears in your eyes, Hawks looks on with alarm and awe. 

As you bring a shaking hand up to your cheek, you feel only soft skin. Your fingers tangle in silk-like hair, and you want to scream, to cut off and cast away that which first bound you to Enji. You fall to your knees instead, ignoring the feeling building within your heart.

“I thought to bring you something nice. You have said how much you love your sisters.” There’s shock in his eyes, defense in his tone, and you can’t help but sympathize. Of course he thought that this would help; he who has never known the chains of love. 

“There is nothing you could bring that would give me joy. Please, let me go.” As you look up with hollow eyes, human hands curled against the floor and human hair falling loose around your face, Hawks cannot help but sweep you up into his arms.

“I-” He stops, as if uncertain of his next words. “I cannot.” This is the first time you have had the god at anything close to a loss for words, and yet, you cannot rejoice. The emotion in his eyes is too familiar, too close to that which Poseidon had looked at you with when he laid beside you in bed.

“I love you.” Desperate arms squeeze tight around your waist. “Say it back, please.” The words pierce you as surely as Cupid’s arrow. Gently, you disentangle yourself from his arms, Hawks allowing you to do so.

“I cannot love you in the way that you want as long as you keep me in this prison of a home.” You know your words must sting, and yet there is nothing but joy on the red-winged god’s face.

“You can learn to love me as I have learnt to love you.” His voice is not pleading; he is not negotiating a deal with you. He is blind to the truth.

“You are not your father, Hawks. Be a better man.” The joy on his face dims slightly, and he takes your hands in his.

“I am not a man.” There’s nothing but cool indifference in your gaze as you look down on him. 

“No, you are not. You are the worst kind of monster.” 

You watch with human eyes as he flies off, and pretend that you do not miss his warmth in the night.

——-

The woman in front of him looks worn, regal beauty untouched by time but dampened by the pain of watching her husband leave time and time again. 

“Do you love him?” Hawks is grateful that she has even deigned to see him. Afterall, he is a product of one of Zeus’ affairs. 

“As much as a prisoner can love their jailer.” 

“My father does not keep you in a cage.” Dark eyes see straight through his soul. He wonders if he even has one at all.

“You keep your love in one.” She sighs, slumping in her beautiful throne of silver and gold.

“Zeus goes off and has dalliances with women immortal and mortal alike, and yet I am expected to greet him with love and affection each time he comes back for my forgiveness. Our wedding night was 300 years long, a blissful period filled with nothing but pure love and complete adoration.” Hera’s fist unclenches.

“I did not love him, at first, turned him away and refused to marry him and yet he was… _persistent_.” Her tone leaves no doubt as to what happened.

“It became easier to convince myself of my love for him rather than try to flee the inevitable, to try and outrun a man whose influence spread everywhere. And I did truly love him, even if it was only for a night.” She waves a hand at the ornate decorations of the room around him, gestures to the vast expanse of her lovely gardens filled with lush blooms and exotic plants and sweet, docile animals of every kind.

“This may not look like a cell, but it is just as constraining as one. Mine is merely more comfortable than chains and bolts of lightning; I happen to know that well.” There’s a wry sort of humor in her voice, tinged with the slightest hint of bitterness. All know of her failed uprising. 

Hera’s eyes fix on Hawk’s golden gaze, urgent and bright.

“You are not your father’s legacy, Hermes. His footsteps are not ones that you should want to follow in.” Her words jolt him, and suddenly, it is not Hera who sits before him, a bitter shell of the queen of the heavens, but you.

Granted, you are not Hera, at least not yet, but in ten, twenty, a hundred years, you will look at him with the same hollow resignation, true love long lost and replaced with a bitter, begrudging affection.

He cannot stand to kill you like that. 

There are gold trinkets all around, gemstones finely polished and larger than one could hold in their hand, and yet what Hera has just told him is more valuable than any jewel Olympus could procure. 

After all, this is but an elaborate prison, and these luxuries are nothing but ornate shackles.

——-

You’re peering into a slowly drying puddle when he comes back, barely able to make out the blurry figures of your sisters. It’s clear from your red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks that you’ve been crying, and when you refuse to turn and look at him, his heart breaks.

“Y/n?” His voice is tentative, and all you do is curl in on yourself further. With a gentle sigh he turns you by your shoulders, pressing your head into his chest.

You hate that you let him. 

“You were right.” There’s no response from you, but the red-winged god carries on anyways.

“I’ve been keeping you in a gilded cage; you deserve to be free.” You shift to look in the eyes, hands warm against his chest.

“Will you set me free?”

“Yes.” Your eyes widen, mouth opening in a little ‘o’ that looks positively adorable. Hawks notes this distantly, along with the fact that you’re completely human again, but the sheer force of will it takes to let you go is too much for him to focus on anything else.

“This won’t make me love you.” The words are out before you can stop them, but you don’t regret it. They’re true.

He smiles down sadly at you, eyes tired and face suddenly seeming very worn. 

“Keeping you here isn’t doing much for that either.” 

The way you throw your arms around him and bury your face in his neck in glee surprises the both of you, but Hawks revels in your warmth anyways. It could very well be the last time that he does. 

“Thank you.” Your whisper is faint, nothing more than a ghost of warm breath on his skin, and all he can do is smooth your hair down and press his face into it. 

The rest of the night is silent, just him holding you as you nap on his chest, resting for the journey ahead. The moon bathes your form in a silvery light, and he fights the urge to force you to stay, to chain you down and lock you up for his eyes only. 

He could claim that it was for your protection; the world is a dangerous place, something you’ve already experienced firsthand. The dead, bitter eyes of Hera haunt him though, remind him that the sweet wine of love can turn to sour vinegar. 

You leave in the morning, and as he watches the sun shine through your leathery black wings, Hawks realizes that this may well be the last time he see you.

It is, for this form at least.

——-

Your death is not unexpected, though the manner in which it is delivered is. Enji rises from the sea, enraged that you would have returned to your mortal form for another man, seeking to destroy that which you loved.

Death is the only way out, he tells himself. 

Hawks tells himself this as he lends blood red feathers to the child who will kill you, as he watches a seventeen year-old boy take your head off with shaking hands. Mumbles it to himself as he watches your sisters wail over your headless corpse, grief so much stronger now that hope has been snatched from their hands. Repeats the mantra as Usagiyama stares at him with sympathetic eyes, places a comforting hand on his shoulder and assures him that your soul has gone to Elysium. 

He wants to search for you, bring you to Olympus himself but he knows Zeus would never allow it. Instead, he keeps tabs on your soul, and his patience is rewarded when he learns that you have tried for rebirth.

Death is the only way out, but life has many ways back in. 

——-

You’re walking home, taking in the crisp November air when abruptly, you slam into someone’s chest. Attached to the chest is a very handsome head, and the awe and love on their face makes your face heat.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going and are you alright?” Something about his golden eyes seem familiar, and you can almost picture them crinkled in a wide, beaming smile. Great, now you’ve been reduced to dreaming about total strangers.

“I am now that you’re here.” It’s such a cheesy line, but you can’t help but look away, flustered by the comment. The stranger reaches out, resting a gentle hand against your cheek. 

“Hey, no need to be embarrassed. We already know each other.” You look up in surprise. Surely you wouldn’t have forgotten someone as striking as him? 

His golden eyes are filled with hope, and behind it, unimaginable sorrow. He looks at you like you are someone he once lost, and you cannot help but feel like you lost him too. 

“I’m afraid that I’ve forgotten your name, sorry.” You want to die, just melt into a puddle and wash away into the drain because your one chance to get with a ridiculously attractive dude and you botch it before the two of you even meet. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem upset, just smiling warmly at you.

“My name is Hawks, and I’ve been watching you since the day you left Poseidon in the sea. You were my wife.”

**Author's Note:**

> come visit the [hellsite](%E2%80%9Dhearteyes-candyskies.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)


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